


Tumblr Prompt Fics - 500

by Bead



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fics [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Everybody Lives, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Forgiveness, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five prompts for 500 Tumblr followers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumblr Prompt Fics - 500

**Author's Note:**

> bitsandbobsoffluffandstuff asked you:  
> Oh, thanks for taking prompts! Hmm, maybe the first time Thorin saw f!Bilbo wearing something he made for her? Or the other way around? Like a jewellery set or a jumper, maybe!

~~~~~~~

 

She stayed. Bella had promised, but it still had the power to surprise him, daily, to meet tired, smiling eyes, to find her standing next to him. After all of it, all the talk of her beloved home, the still-burning sting of mutual betrayals - all he had done to her, the nightmare of his sword at her breast, his hand at her throat, and the cracks in his heart from when she stole away the Arkenstone, all that, all still healing.

After all that, despite that, despite seeing the darkest depths of greed, possessiveness and madness he could sink to...Bella was here, still by his side, and could muster up a sweet smile for him, gift the fleeting press of her hand, a goodnight kiss carelessly pressed against his cheek. He could scarce believe his good fortune. She should be, after all he put her through, halfway across Arda, running for home. 

But despite that, and despite not-quite-deathbed apologies, confessions and kisses, despite working side by side, they were still...tentative with one another. 

They had not spoken again of their feelings, and with the chaos of healing and cleaning and rebuilding, it was enough to be near her again without the burn of gold sickness on him. To trust himself around her, to trust her again, and to feel her growing ease and trust in him return. 

It occurred to Thorin that Bella was waiting for something.

Scowling into the fire, Thorin tried to make more clear the hazy, dreamlike memories of that night in the tent after the battle. Madness somehow burned away in blood and pain, he tried to say goodbye with as much dignity as he could, carefully not telling her how deeply he loved her - having held himself apart from her, no matter how sharply he yearned, until he had come into his own - determined not to burden her with confessions of love as he slipped away to his father's halls. 

But Bella Baggins would have none of it. She kissed his hand and leaned down until they were nearly nose to nose. 

"This is not the time to cease your stubbornness, Thorin Oakenshield. I didn't come all this way to see you not safe at home." She gulped back tears. "No, I cannot let you go, Thorin. Your forgiveness I will take, gratefully, and return it...a hundredfold….but….there’s just…” 

And then the most wonderful thing, she leaned forward, and pressed her sweet mouth to his. "I love you, you see. Funny thing, terribly selfish to ask, but I dare think you feel the same, so please. Stay, my love. Stay with me, please. Please." And she kissed him, and kissed him again, until the chill left his bones and the breath came more easily in his lungs, until his pain lessened, driven away by her bright, fierce will. She had held his hand and shouted at the top of her lungs for Gandalf, and then.....

He could remember much more of that night, but whispers of the wizard and her bright blue eyes, the softness of her mouth as she kissed him once more, saying goodnight, and he couldn’t help but wonder if any sort of promises were made. It occurred to him that he was waiting for something, some sign to come nearer, too. They have not kissed again since, but, well, if the truth be told, they’ve behaved like a pair of younger than Kili, than Ori, with a matched set of moon-eyed crushes and no idea how to move forward. If she were a dwarf, he’d know. 

Best to start anew. 

It took more of his courage than he ever imagined to walk into the forges, gleaming with treasures to be. They did not sing to him as they had, these precious metals, in their chill, brilliant voices, but he could remember, so he kept his eyes on those working around him, greeting one, then another. His hands shook (though thankfully his voice did not) as he asked Dori, overseeing the disposition of the guilds, where he might do some work.

Dori made a pleased noise, and said, "Well, I think you know your way to your mother's workshop, don't you? Was going to tidy it up a bit before…

Thorin held up a hand. “No,” he said, relief flooding him, and proud his voice did not break. “But thank you for the thought. I will see to it.” 

The sheer kindness of it...not suggesting Thror or Thrain's workshops, but a place untainted by madness but still of family, Thorin could only nod and clasp Dori’s shoulder in thanks. 

He spent a week setting it to rights, sneaking away after dinner or nights he could not sleep. It somehow settled his mind and heart a bit, going through the motions he'd done a thousand times as a wee lad and youth, puttering about helping his amad - whose creations were as elegant and pristine as her workshop was a near-riot of materials - set things to rights. It gave him time to sift through every gem, every scrap of metal, and choose just the right things for Bella. 

He began to make her a cup of tea in the morning in his rooms, bring it to her and offer an escort to breakfast, knowing full well she was never her best early in the day, and there were still far too many places for one without mountain-sense or eyesight to slip and fall. During the days, he made sure to seek her out at least one more meal, or to stand by her side putting Erebor to rights. 

~~~~

The moment Thorin showed it to Bella, she set her sights on his grandmother’s garden, “putting it to bed for the winter,” she said, which actually meant “digging anything up that was dead, and folding cartloads of dragon dung into the soil.” He couldn’t believe she’d take on such filthy work, but she was keen to do it. He discovered she’d consulted Oin, and, though Fili and Bard, spoken with those among Bard’s people who knew plants. Soon, she had a small, avid group digging in the dirt with her.  
One evening, after she fell asleep during dinner, nearly nodding into her stew, Thorin tried to encourage her to take a more supervisory role. 

“Oh, no, Thorin, though I am grateful for all the help. It’s what I know best, and come spring, we can have a working kitchen garden. Won’t that be lovely?” She cast a merry look at him, “Fresh food not from Thranduil’s people? Herbs close by for Oin’s healing salves? And some of your grandmother’s flowers, too.” 

Touched beyond speech by her thoughtfulness, he lifted her hand to kiss. She blushed so prettily after, looked so pleased, he longed to take her in his arms and kiss her properly, but kissed her hand again, mindful of the others working in the garden. 

Once satisfied with the state of his workshop, he ran through a few simple hair clasps and beads to get back into practice as he mulled over what to make. He settled on a pin for this first gift, one with a secure clasp that would not fall off as she toiled in the garden. 

When he had time to set his mind free, before sleep, when he woke and made her tea, in the long hours digging rubble and dung, he turned his thoughts to design, and it was a pretty problem, he realized, to make something that would to a hobbit’s sensibilities - what he had seen of Shire design was like Bella, all lush curves - and still carried the meaning of a proper dwarf courting gift.

The next day, he found her happily sorting roots. 

“Oh, your grandmother had quite the collection, Thorin, I wish I could have seen this garden in full bloom.” 

“It was lovely,” he agreed, frowning. “You can tell it was beautiful, just by these...roots?” 

“Bulbs,” she corrected him fondly, and pointed to the piles. “Daffodils, crocus, tulips and iris. Now the daffodils would be yellow and white, mostly yellow, the crocus, white or purple, but the iris and the tulips could just be anything. I can’t wait to see them.” She put one in his hand and folded his fingers around it. “It’s like that geode Bifur brought up from the mines. On the outside, it just looks like a plain old rock, but inside, there’s something beautiful. You just have to know the right way to care for it to see it’s beauty.” 

Thorin held the bulb in his hand a long moment. “What flower is this?” 

“It’s a tulip, I think, probably traded by some Southron trader, I would bet, to be this far East. Oh, they were quite dear in the Shire, coming so far. The Gondorians first called them tulips because the shape of the flower reminded them of the Southron trader’s turbans.” She plucked her trowel and drew the shape of the flower at their feet, then sighed. “Of course I can’t tell the color yet, so I can’t tell you it’s meaning, but tulips are normally a flower of love or loving thoughts.” 

“Flower of love?” 

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, um, well. It’s a thing Hobbits do, when courting, or anytime really. Exchange flowers. The colors of them, and sometimes even how much they had bloomed would have a meaning. So you could give a thank you gift of flowers that also, because of the flowers you choose, also _say_ thank you.” 

“We do similar things with gemstones and precious metals, when giving a gift. “ 

“Oh! Well.” She looked pleased. “That is a lovely thing to know. I had no idea.” She blushed and blushed, looking everywhere but at him, and he reached out to press her hand. Instantly, turned to clasp his, her eyes still downcast. 

“And a tulip?” He asked softly. 

“Y-yellow for cheerful thoughts,” she whispered. “White for forgiveness, and there’s a story for red…” She stopped, and cleared her throat, hanging onto his hand. 

“Bella…” Thorin whispered, concerned. 

“No, let me...the story is of a Southron prince, of course he’s a Southron prince, that’s where they come from, but the prince loved a maid, and had been told of her death, and was so stricken by grief that he got on his horse and rode straight off a cliff, unable to think of living without her. And they say that from every drop of blood he spilled that day, a deep red tulip grew, a sign of his perfect love for her.” 

“I think,” Thorin said, his voice rough from the sharp stone of grief in his throat. “I know I would have -” 

“No, don’t say it, don’t say it, ” Bella cried, pressing her fingers over his mouth then shifting to reach for him, to wind her arms around his around his neck. She was shaking. “You think it’s just a _story_ , but when...and...I couldn’t leave you, even…” Thorin turned and gathered her close, drawing her into his lap. 

“I was slipping away, my treasure,” Thorin murmured. “Until you forgave me. I had dealt us both a heart blow, as mad as I was. More than one heart blow. And the last I gave you cut me near in half. One half of me was on that battlefield. The other, still frozen on the battlements, aghast, ashamed, terrified, at what I’d done to you, what I’d nearly done, what I’d said. And another part of me, hopeful, thinking of you, safe from any further harm, heading for home.” 

She snorted wetly against his shoulder. “That’s three halves, Thorin.” 

“Never very good at maths,” he whispered around the stone in his throat, and kissed her hair. A small fist struck his chest. 

“Liar,” she snorted. “I’ve seen you get all gleeful over engineering problems…” 

They clung to one another a moment, both heartsore and trembling, and eventually, their desperate embrace turned comfortable. She shifted in his arms, sighing, and he felt the warmth of her breath against his neck. He curled her just a little closer and drew an easier breath into his lungs. 

“I have neglected you.” 

She jerked in his arms. “No! Thorin….” He ran a comforting hand down her back, seeking to soothe. 

“No, sweet one. I have. I have reveled in, been grateful for, and taken comfort in your presence, your forgiveness, and given little back.” 

“Thorin…” 

“If I could, I’d give you cartloads of tulip bulbs, Bella. I know you treasure them far more than the glittering jewels we have here. Any color that would assure you of my love for you, but most especially red, because you are _sanghivashel_ , to me, the most perfect of treasures, most perfect love.” 

“I’m not perfect,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “I am most certainly _not_ perfect.” 

“Nor am I, Belladonna, but you are the perfect love to me. The perfect love _for_ me. These last few weeks, I have become more sure of it. We are a good balance, you and I, we have been ever since I got my head out of my arse back on the Carrock and allowed myself to rely on your strengths. I would like the time to learn how to do more of that, and for you...for you to...to trust...” His throat closed, and he gathered her to him again, holding tight. 

“Thorin, I would not be here if I did not trust you, I would not rest here in your arms if I did not think I could….” 

He muffled a few harsh breaths against her shoulder, then drew himself back, worried he was holding her too tightly. He brushed the tears from her cheeks, and dashed away his own, took her hand from his shoulder, and kissed it. 

“I would court you, Miss Baggins, with the intent to marry. Will you think on it?” 

Her free hand rose to her heart as she gave him a bewildered look. “Thorin, I thought we _were_ courting.” 

Laughing, he kissed her hand again and again. “With no tokens of esteem? No statements of intent?” 

“I rather thought you _not dying_ when I asked you to counted as a pretty emphatic statement. I just thought that maybe….um.” She blushed and curled her hand around his. “I thought that maybe dwarrow took rather a slow path? You’ve been very dear, and I _know_ you care for me, I was just...I thought maybe since, you know…that we did need a little time to get settled and….” 

She was so bewildered and lovely and earnest, finding excuses for his shocking breach of manners, that he had to catch her mouth with his, to pour out his joy and gratitude. She made a little noise of surprise, and then a softer, deeper one of approval, and it went to his head like strong spirits.

“Miss Baggins,” he said when they’d parted, when he thrilled to see her sparkling, kiss-hazy eyes. “We are agreed, then?” 

She stared at his mouth. “Hmm?” 

“I should not kiss you again unless I know….” 

“Know? Oh! Courting, yes, my gracious yes, didn’t I say I thought we were?” 

“Hmm, yes, you did at that. I find it is wise to be utterly clear.” 

She quirked a sly eyebrow at him. “You’ve courted with intent before?” 

“Never, no. Never, Bella. Only you.” Thorin looked into her face, trying to show everything he felt for her in his gaze. She breathed out in a short, hard pant and her eyelids fluttered as she swallowed hard. He cupped her dear face in his hand.

“It pays,” he said, forcing himself to speak through a mouth gone dry. “I...I find it wise to be clear when negotiating matters of importance.” His eyes dropped helplessly to her mouth. “This...you...there is nothing more important to me, Bella.” He looked her in the eye. “Truly, not in this mountain, not in the wide world. I would have you know this.” 

She nodded, eyes bright, breath hitching. “Know that you are the same, to me.” 

He brushed his lips against hers. “I don’t fight back from near death for just anyone.” 

“You better not,” she huffed, and kissed him. 

~~~~

In the end, Thorin found his inspiration in a rather mashed tulip bulb from his pocket and the metal cap on the end of his boot. Squinting at it - a motif from his personal sigil that adorned - and would one day again when they had the supplies and means and time - his clothing, belt and weapons - an idea began to form one morning as he brewed her tea. 

“You seem a miles away, dearest,” she teased him on the way to breakfast. “Are you sure it is not you who needs a cup of tea?” 

He lifted the hand he was holding and kissed it. “Watching you garden, I have felt the need to create again. I ventured into the forges and….and it was good. I was...it was... That pull...the….I needed to know.” He chanced a look at her, and she was beaming, trustful. It was...it was…. He took a deep breath and turned it, and kissed her palm. “I am still myself, even there. The only pull; bad memories.” 

She leaned against his arm. “I am so very glad, dearest. Oh, bother, _not_ glad about the bad memories...”

“ And there are good memories, too. I’ve cleaned out my mother’s workshop while I puzzled over what to make.” 

“Not your own? I’m assuming you did have your own.” 

“I did. It took some structural damage, and...well.” 

“Nice to be near family?”

Thorin nodded, heart full, and watched himself stroke her hand. “And she loved bright, clear colors, as you do, so...

“Thorin,” she murmured, such affection in her voice, then gave him a smile full of mischief. “And _speaking_ of thoughts, I’d like to point out I’m very good at puzzles,” she teased softly, curling her hand around his thumb to give it a playful squeeze. He gently unfurled her fingers and he pressed an ardent kiss to her palm. 

“I know, and you helped me solve this one.” 

“But...what...would you… _when?_.” 

Thorin lifted her hand again and placed a lingering kiss on the palm, slow and sweet, until she huffed, flustered. (But her eyes were dark with promise.) 

“It’s a secret,” he murmured into her hand, and kissed it again. Bella swayed toward him, dreamy eyed. 

“Oh, you horrible tease, how could I solve a puzzle without knowing I was solving a puzzle?” 

“Because when I am lost, Bella, you seem to always find a way forward,” he said simply. “It has been thus since I first met you.” He cleared his throat. “Getting lost _before_ meeting you does not count.”

A bubble of laughter escaping her, cheeks blazing, hand on her heart, she hissed at him. “You can’t just _say_ things like that, before I’ve woken up properly, Thorin Oakenshield, you just can _not_!” 

Thorin raised his eyebrows at her. Bella handed him her mug, took his face her hands and dragged him down to her mouth. Thorin was lightheaded and blinking when she was done. 

“Was that a deterrent” he rasped when he could find his voice. “Because….” 

“Oh, hush,” she snapped, pleased, and did it again. 

~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Of course it got away with me. Of course. And of course it has flowers in it, and of course, of course echos of things I've discovered about them in other fics. 
> 
> Tulips came from Turkey to Western Europe, and were named just the way I described here. People went MAD over them. 
> 
> Second/final chapter to come soon.


End file.
